


you want to be a stone in your next life

by melodiousb



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Concussions, Depression, M/M, New York Rangers, Retirement, but it's not as sad as that makes it sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodiousb/pseuds/melodiousb
Summary: He doesn’t explain that life post-retirement looks pretty bleak even without factoring in lingering health issues, or that he’s scared on the ice now, sometimes. He doesn’t talk about how he wants to keep playing anyway, if only to keep living the kind of life he knows how to live. If he keeps talking about the reasons he should retire, maybe he’ll convince himself. Or maybe that’s not why he wants to explain this to Kevin. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?” he asks.





	you want to be a stone in your next life

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Sometimes I process my feelings through the medium of Rick Nash. It's fine.  
> 2\. Thanks to Ras for audiencing and to my therapist for helping me figure out what exactly it was that I was processing.  
> 3\. At this point if Rick Nash does not retire this summer I'm going to be pretty upset.  
> 4\. Let's all just pretend that I did not title this fic with a line from a poem by a member of BTS.

Kevin’s been home for a couple of weeks, but they don’t get together for dinner until the first round is over. It’s a little awkward at first, because it’s the first time since they met that they’re not on the same team, the first time in Kevin’s career that he’s not in the playoffs. But Kevin has always taken awkwardness personally, so it doesn’t last long.

They chat about places to eat in Boston, and Kevin’s golf plans, and how much trouble the Bruins are going to have with Tampa. 

“You know I’m rooting for you, right?” Kevin says. “‘Cause it’s kind of fun to be a hockey player from Boston and not root for the Bs, but it’s either you or, like, Mac and G and JT now, so of course it’s you.” He’s oddly earnest about it, so Rick smiles and thanks him.

“It feels pretty weird to me, too,” he confesses. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, coming to a new team. And it’s been different, getting here at the end of the season, when everybody’s already…figured out what they’re like.”

“I’ve never been traded,” says Kevin. “I mean, you know that. I played on a bunch of teams at once when I was a kid, but…” he shrugs.

“Yeah,” says Rick. “It’s—it gets harder.” He thinks carefully about his next words, because he’s not sorry to be in this city, playing for this team. Playing for the cup is worth a lot of hardships, but this isn’t one.

“I just want to play,” he says, finally. “So as long as I’m playing, I’m good. But when you get traded, when you have to fit yourself into a new team, there’s all this other stuff, that’s not just hockey.” He stops again. “I guess, now that I’m here, I just want to keep going long enough for it to be just hockey again.”

Kevin nods, and starts telling a story about joining a new team as a kid. Kevin isn’t really easier to talk to about heavy stuff than any of Rick’s other good friends, but he’s unusually good at changing the subject afterwards, so sometimes it seems like he is. He keeps it light until they’re outside, having taken a picture with the chef and promised to come back soon. 

“Your head’s good, right?” Kevin asks, a little hesitant. “All the way better?”

“Yeah, of course,” says Rick. He doesn’t say that after a few bad concussions, you don’t know if there is an “all the way better” anymore. He feels good enough.

Kevin gives him a hug when they part ways at Rick’s car, tight and long enough that Rick has to nudge his mind away from the realization that Kevin smells really good. 

“I’ll call you,” he says, “After…”

“Yeah,” says Kevin, because they both know it depends. It doesn’t make a difference now that they’ve never been on different sides of this situation before.

-

He doesn’t call Kevin until about a week after breakup day, and they make plans for a few days after that. There’s no reason for Rick to hang around in Boston any longer. There’s no reason he needed to stay as long as he has. But he also doesn’t have anywhere else he needs to be, and he’s never been to Kevin’s favorite golf course.

It’s nice, the kind of place he could see himself coming back to over and over again. Kevin looks pleased when Rick tells him so. 

“Yeah,” he says, and then, after a pause a beat too long, adds, “You can, if you’re back here next season.”

“I don’t know if that’s going be a major factor when I’m deciding.”

“Sure, but, like. It would be nice, right?”

“Sure,” says Rick. The conversation pauses there, as they’ve arrived at Rick’s ball. He hits it cleanly—a little too cleanly, maybe. It sails right over the green, and Kevin grins at him.

“You haven’t caught up with me yet,” Rick warns him.

“I know,” says Kevin. “I just like watching you fuck up.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Rick waits until Kevin’s taken his next stroke, and then asks, “Is that what you think I should do? Sign here?”

Kevin shrugs. “You like it here, right? And the team is good, and you wouldn’t have to go somewhere new, and—I can’t really see you wanting to come back to New York, with where we’re at right now”—Kevin’s voice has gone suspiciously light. “So, yeah. If they can afford you. I kind of figured that’s what you’d want to do.”

Rick laughs. “I don’t think who can afford me is going to be the biggest issue.”

“Maybe not,” says Kevin. “But I think…if money is your biggest thing, you’ll find it.”

“It’s not,” says Rick.

“What is?”

Rick waits to answer until his ball is on the green, and Kevin doesn’t push him. It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say. It’s that he does, and it’s hard. He looks at Kevin until Kevin looks at him, and then finds himself staring at the bright turf at his feet, without having consciously looked away.

“I don’t know how many more head hits I can take,” he says.

“Oh,” says Kevin, and, after a moment, brings up a new subject, an easy one. They keep it light for the next few holes, joking and teasing, but Rick is off his game now. Kevin’s not the first person he’s said that to, but this is the first time saying it has left him shaken. By the time they reach the last hole, he’s a couple of strokes behind.

“It could be nice,” Kevin says. “To…do your own thing, right? Live your life?”

Rick turns away. He needs not to be looking at Kevin. He needs—he needs to breathe. Coming from anyone else, that wouldn’t have meant anything. But—Kevin knows.

“Is that…part of what you’re thinking about?” asks Kevin.

“It’s not,” says Rick, and he’s mostly telling the truth.

Kevin knows because he’d interrupted a fight once, one of many fights during Rick’s long and extremely messy breakup with his ex. Neither of them had ever said anything about it, afterwards, but Rick knows they’d been loud enough—or, Michael had. Rick never yelled, and he thinks that’s part of the reason the breakup was so long and messy. Anyway, Kevin had heard enough to know what was happening, and he’d looked at Rick afterwards as if he was going to say something, but he never had, and he’d never acted less like a friend, and Rick is pretty sure he’s never told anyone else.

Over lunch Rick tries to explain how symptom-free doesn’t mean the same thing it used to, and how he’s had enough bad luck with this stuff that it’s probably not luck. How he has no way of knowing what kind of shape his brain is in now, let alone what it’s going to look like after another major concussion. He doesn’t really have to explain. Everyone reads the articles. Everyone knows someone who’s having a bad time. They just don’t talk about it if they can help it. 

He doesn’t explain that life post-retirement looks pretty bleak even without factoring in lingering health issues, or that he’s scared on the ice now, sometimes. He doesn’t talk about how he wants to keep playing anyway, if only to keep living the kind of life he knows how to live. If he keeps talking about the reasons he should retire, maybe he’ll convince himself. Or maybe that’s not why he wants to explain this to Kevin. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?” he asks.

Kevin frowns. “Enough for—oh.” He looks down. “Yeah, I guess. But…” he looks around, checking that no one’s within listening distance. “If you—retired,” it’s the first time either of them has said the word, and Kevin almost stumbles over it. “Wouldn’t that make a difference for you? You could…date.”

“It’s not like playing has stopped me from dating,” says Rick.

“That guy was a dick,” Kevin says immediately.

Rick laughs, surprised. “You didn’t even know him.” 

“I—heard enough,” says Kevin. “And I know you.” He meets Rick’s eyes. Rick has had to remind himself a couple of times, this last year or so, that Kevin’s not a kid anymore, but—he’s still so young.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he says. “That relationship lasted three years. I don’t remember exactly what you overheard, but…people can get mean during a breakup.”

Michael had been kind of mean from the beginning, but it hadn’t been a dealbreaker until the end. It had been a lot less important than how sweet he could be, and the way he looked, and the fact that he was nearly as closeted as Rick was.

“He was a dick,” Kevin repeats, stubbornly.

“Yeah,” says Rick, but…” He’s planning on trailing off there, doesn’t even have an end for the sentence he’s begun, but Kevin’s looking at him like he’s really waiting for something.

“You’re right,” he says, finally. “It’s hard to find someone when you’re…” he shrugs. “So I settled for someone who maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to be with, if things were different.”

“And now things can be different,” says Kevin. “You can find someone better for you.”

“You make it sound easy,” says Rick. “And it wouldn’t be, whether I’m playing or not. Why are you so invested in this? Have you got someone in mind?” That would explain a lot, actually. Kevin probably knows exactly one other gay man and wants to set Rick up with him.

“No!” Kevin protests, reddening in a way that means Rick is absolutely right.

“Sure, it might be easier if I retire,” says Rick. “But it’s not really something I’m thinking about right now. It’ll probably be a while before I start dating again, no matter what I end up doing in the fall. So put whatever friend you want to set me up with on hold, okay?”

“There’s really no one,” says Kevin. “But. Okay.”

-

He doesn’t let it go, though. Next time they talk, Rick is in Muskoka, his phone tucked against his shoulder while he pretends to fish off the end of his dock.

“Your boyfriend,” says Kevin. “You were really with him for three years?”

“A little more than that,” says Rick. “And don’t ask me why I put up with him for that long. He wasn’t that bad.” He kind of was, and Rick doesn’t know why he did, but that’s none of Kevin’s business.

“I wasn’t going to,” says Kevin. “It’s just weird to think about. Most of the time I’ve known you, I thought you were single but you were in a relationship.”

“Is that important?” Rick asks, just for something to say.

“Isn’t it?” asks Kevin. “People act different when they’re with someone. I do, for sure. So, like…I thought I knew single Rick, but I knew relationship Rick, and now I’m figuring out how they’re different.”

“Well, I’ve been single for, what, eight or nine months now?” says Rick. “So you’ve had plenty of time to figure it out. What’s single Rick like?”

“Crankier,” says Kevin, with no pause for thought.

-

Kevin keeps asking questions Rick doesn’t really want to answer, but Rick keeps answering them. He knows why; it’s not complicated. Usually he’s got friends and family in and out all summer, maybe a training partner or two. This year he’s had his brother and sister-in-law up a couple of times, and he went down to Brampton for his birthday, but other than that, he’s been alone. And he likes being alone, in between other things, but not as a permanent condition. 

He’s trying to get used to it, but mostly he ends up feeling like he’d give anything to walk into a locker room of friends every day for another few years. Whatever comes afterwards is going to be shitty anyway, and his brain is already pretty banged up. How much worse can it get?

So, yeah, Kevin’s questions are intrusive, but they’re also—Rick’s grateful that he calls at all. Finding out that Rick is gay hasn’t made Kevin act like any less of a friend, and he knows it wouldn’t be like that with everyone.

-

“Did you have other boyfriends before what’s-his-name?” Kevin asks. Rick is returning a call he missed during his workout, and that’s the first thing Kevin says when he picks up. He knows Michael’s name, but he refuses to use it.

“Of course,” says Rick. “I’m thirty-four; you think I waited to have a relationship until I was thirty?”

“Well, I don’t know,” says Kevin. “You could’ve…only just figured out you were gay, or something.”

“I’ve known since I was a kid,” says Rick. He’s surprised by how much he suddenly doesn’t want to be in this conversation. “It’s weird that you’re asking about this, you know that?”

“It’s weird that I don’t know it already,” Kevin counters. “There’s no one I’m as close with as I am with you that I know less about. Like, I know about every girl Brady’s ever dated, even though he’s been with Gracia for longer than I’ve known him. That’s normal.” He pauses. “It’s you never talking about yourself that’s weird.”

“I am actively trying to hide who I date for a reason,” Rick points out.

“Sure,” says Kevin. “But I know now, so if you wanted to talk about—anything, you could.”

“Thanks,” says Rick. He’s not sure he means it.

-

“Did you ever think you were into girls?” Kevin asks.

Rick considers hanging up the phone.

“I pretended I was,” he says. “Does that count?”

“No?” says Kevin. “But…what was that like?”

“What are you, my therapist? I feel like you’re interrogating me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” says Kevin. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Rick can hear movement on the other end of the line, and pictures Kevin shifting uncomfortably.

“I just,” Kevin begins, and Rick waits. “I’m curious, is all.”

Something clicks, finally. “Curious?” Rick asks, slowly, feeling his way to the question, “or…curious?”

There’s complete silence now. Rick wonders if Kevin is even breathing. He waits. 

“Maybe both, a little,” says Kevin. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” says Rick. "I mean, I don't get to decide whether it's okay. You're feeling what you're feeling." He feels very tender towards Kevin suddenly, but also kind of overwhelmed. As much as he wants to be there for Kevin, he wants even more to be very far away. And he is, he reminds himself, and breathes a little easier.

“You can, uh. You don’t have to ask around things,” he says. “You can just…ask.”

“Okay,” says Kevin. “Maybe I will.” But he doesn’t call for more than a week, and when he does, he talks about his niece, and Yands's kids, and how his brother accidentally punched Vese in the face. 

Rick hasn't got a lot to tell him in return. He played a couple of rounds of golf earlier in the week, and training is going well, and there's something wrong with his grill. "I haven't got a lot going on," he admits.

"Yeah, it doesn't sound like it," says Kevin. "What's going on with you? Usually you have people visiting every couple of weeks."

"Just seeing what it's like, I guess," says Rick. "If I'm here full time in the fall, this is what it's going to be like."

"That's why you should have people around in the summer," says Kevin. "If you don't have them now, you won't get to see them at all."

"I know."

"You're...thinking about staying up there, then?" Kevin asks. "I thought...I don't know, that you'd come back to New York, maybe."

"I might do that," Rick says, noncommittal. He doesn't explain that it's easier to be on the outside of things when you're far away, and couldn't be on the inside if you wanted to. He doesn't think Kevin would understand.

On the other hand, sometimes Kevin understands too well. "You're just moping because you're by yourself," he says. "And you're by yourself because you want to mope."

"That's not—"

"Yeah, it is." Kevin sounds much too pleased with himself. "I can fix this. I'm coming to visit you."

Rick hasn't got a good excuse to say no, and he doesn't want to, anyway.

"Okay," he says. "When were you thinking?"

Rick is glad Kevin is coming, until he remembers that this probably means a lot more uncomfortable personal questions. He's a little bit scared that Kevin is going to sit him down and demand his entire sexual history, and what's worse, he's a little turned on by the idea.

Kevin arrives during one of those sudden summer storms, effectively smoothing over any awkwardness. He's drenched in the time it takes to get from his rental car to the house, and Rick greets him at the door with a towel. Kevin rubs himself dry and kicks off his shoes, like a nice, responsible guest, but then he ruins it dripping water all over the place as he carries his bag to his room. There's just one bag; his clubs must still be in the car. Rick wipes up the drips with the towel and walks to the window. 

When Kevin comes back, sockless and in dry clothes, his hair sticking up in damp spikes, Rick is leaning against the glass, watching the rain on the lake. Kevin sits down next to him and watches for barely two minutes before he says, "This is boring."

Rick grins. "You're really not going to like it here."

"Sure I will," says Kevin. "If you'll actually do stuff."

What did you have in mind, Rick thinks, but it sounds flirty in his head, so he doesn't say it. "You've been here for about five minutes," he points out instead. "What do you want to do?"

Kevin looks at him for a few stretched-out seconds. "Eat something?" he suggests. 

"Oh, yeah," says Rick. "I was going to grill, but..." he gestures at the weather.

"I think it might be letting up," says Kevin. He looks out for a moment. "No, it's definitely not."

"I can do the steaks on the stove," says Rick, moving towards the kitchen. "Want to help?"

"I can't cook," Kevin says, following him and accepting the beer Rick's pulled out of the fridge.

"I know," says Rick, although he has a secret theory that Kevin's perfectly capable of cooking and pretends not to be so that other people will cook for him. The uncomplaining way Kevin takes a couple of bell peppers and starts cutting them into reasonably equal pieces supports this theory.

Rick isn't a great cook, either, but he's pretty comfortable with the basics, and, since Kevin is fine as long as someone tells him what to do, they work well together. Kevin mimes a pass when he slides the bowl of veggies over and says, "Shoot, shoot!"

Rick sends it spinning back in his direction. "You shoot," he says. "Those need to go on skewers."

"You're no fun," says Kevin.

"Yeah," says Rick, "but you knew that."

“Wow,” says Kevin.

Rick looks at him questioningly.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me,” Kevin says. “You really are no fun.”

Rick shrugs. Nothing he can do about that.

-

The rain stops while they’re eating, so after dinner they take their beers outside and dry off a couple of chairs. It’s nice and cool now, and Rick is, in this moment, really happy that Kevin’s there. He’s not doing anything he wouldn’t do by himself, but having someone with him makes everything better. Unfortunately, his contentment is short-lived.

“So,” says Kevin slowly, drawing it out like he doesn’t want to start this conversation either.  
Can we talk?”

“Yeah,” says Rick. “Of course,” because “do we have to?” would make him sound like a whiny kid.

Kevin puts down his beer and clasps his hand around one knee. “I never thought about being into guys before,” he says. “But then—after I heard you with…”

“Michael,” Rick offers. He’s not sure why he’s so uncomfortable, but he wants to jump out of his skin.

“Yeah, him,” says Kevin. “After that…” He keeps glancing quickly at Rick and then bringing his attention back to the boards of the deck, or his own feet. “I started thinking about it. About you.”

“About...me?”

Kevin smiles slightly. “Yeah. So. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just wanted…”

Rick waits for more, but when it doesn’t come he gets up and walks to the end of the deck, where he’s got something to look at that’s not Kevin.

“Sorry,” he says. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m not—I guess I can’t be sure about anything until I’ve, um, tried it,” says Kevin. “But I think—I think I want...you.”

“Jesus,” Rick says, under his breath. He can’t deal with this. He doesn’t know how.

He hears Kevin get up, and doesn’t move. When Kevin comes up behind him, he gets close enough that Rick can feel the warmth from his body, but he still doesn’t move.

“Rick,” says Kevin.

Rick turns around. He’s been avoiding getting involved with hockey players since he was a teenager—even guys that looked like they could be hockey players. So this is new, having someone as tall and broad as he is this close and two breaths from leaning in to kiss him. It’s a lot to take, and he wants to move away, but he wants to get closer just as much, so he does nothing.

“Can I kiss you?” Kevin asks.

Rick ducks his head. He’s glad Kevin asked. He doesn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t.

“I’m not here for you to experiment on,” he says, his voice rougher than he likes. He steps sideways, out from between Kevin and the deck railing, and feels like he can breathe again.

-

The next few days are what they could be if nothing was going on. If Rick wasn't figuring out how irretrievably he was willing to mess up his life, and if Kevin wasn't making him the excuse for a belated sexuality crisis. It's nice, and Rick wonders if maybe it could really be that simple. Problems that are about your thoughts, or your feelings—if you don't think about them, they aren't there, right?

Kevin’s last night in Muskoka, they fry the fish they caught in the morning, one decent-sized bass and a smaller walleye that they would have thrown back if they’d gotten anything better. Kevin has an unexpected fund of patience, but he doesn’t really enjoy fishing, so they hadn’t stayed out long. He finally seems relaxed, though. 

Kevin is always happy to do nothing, but only when he has company—and attention. That’s one reason things wouldn’t work out between them if they started something. Rick can come up with more. But Kevin is settled in now, enough that he’s even made a couple of appreciative comments about the scenery. Normally he doesn’t really care about scenery unless there are people in it.

“It’s grown on you a little, hasn’t it?” Rick asks, nodding towards the view.

“It’s beautiful,” Kevin agrees, slowly.

“But?”

“I hate to think of you here all by yourself,” he says, all at once, like he’s been waiting for permission.

“Not everyone hates being alone as much as you do,” says Rick.

“Yeah, but you don’t like it,” says Kevin. “Not all the time, anyway. You can’t tell me you’re really looking forward to living all by yourself in the middle of nowhere full time.”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere,” Rick protests. “There’s a golf course twenty minutes away.”

Kevin laughs out loud, letting his head fall back against the back of his chair, and they both lapse into silence for a little while.

Then Kevin tries a different tack. “I just don’t like thinking about you alone. You need...someone.”

“Single Rick too cranky for you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” says Kevin. “I mean, no, I just—I don’t think you’re happy.”

“And you think you could make me happy,” RIck says, as dryly as he can. What’s really scary is that he kind of thinks so, too.

“I don’t know,” says Kevin, more quietly. “But I could try.”

Rick turns away. “You can’t just—”

“What?”

“You can’t go from ‘oh, I think I might be into men’ to ‘let’s start a serious relationship’ in four days, it makes you sound…” like you don’t mean it, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t want Kevin to know that that’s the thought that hurts.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” asks Kevin. “I told you, I would…” he trails off. “Look, it doesn’t have to be me, but you need someone—you want someone—and...and I’d really like it to be me.”

Kevin makes a face at himself, and yeah, Rick can’t believe he’s being this serious either. “Seriously,” Kevin adds, half smiling now. “If you want me to, like, fuck some random guy to prove that I like dick…”

“You said you weren’t sure,” says Rick.

“I’m pretty sure,” says Kevin. He holds Rick’s gaze, and the silence between them is heavier this time. If Rick could tell himself that this would be a casual thing, that Kevin would leave in the morning and it would never happen again, this would be easier. But Rick’s never been good at casual things, and even if he was, he couldn’t do that with Kevin.

“This doesn’t have to be…” Kevin shakes his head. “Look, I want you. What do you want?”

That’s not a question Rick knows how to answer. He wants Kevin; he can admit that, if only to himself. He wants the life he knows, even if giving it up would be smarter and safer. He wants to want to make the right decision, almost as much as he wants not to have to make any decision at all.

Kevin waits while Rick tries to come up with an answer. 

“I don’t know,” says Rick, when the silence has gone on too long. “I’m scared to figure it out.” 

Kevin leans forward in his seat, but Rick doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t really want to face the idea that Kevin might be serious.

“Okay,” says Kevin. “Well. If you want help figuring it out, I’m kind of...you can ask me if you need anything. I’ll say yes.”

Rick stands up and finds that he’s a little drunker than he thought. “You don’t get it,” he says. “You’re the scariest part.”

Kevin smiles. “Yeah?” He stands and takes a step closer. “That sounds like a good thing, for me.”

“Don’t,” says Rick. Kevin’s too close, and Rick knows too much about him. He’s a soft exterior over hard, solid bone and muscle, and he smells sweet like the shampoo in the guest bathroom. Rick feels like Kevin could wrap around him like a cocoon, and the closer Kevin gets, the more Rick wants that.

-

The nice thing about a hangover is that the headache and the nausea go away eventually. Rick almost welcomes them, knowing they’re temporary.

He gets headaches now that he never used to get, and it’s fine. It’s not the the immediate aftermath of a hit, when it feels like his head is going to spin forever, but eventually it stops. Rick doesn’t know what his brain is going to look like if someone cracks his head open after he dies, but if he has symptoms now, they’re manageable. Maybe he’s perfectly fine. Maybe he’ll keep being fine. The thing is that he doesn’t know, has no way of knowing, how far he is from sitting alone in a dark room not knowing whether the lights aren’t on because they’ll hurt his eyes or because he doesn’t have the willpower to walk to the switch.

Kevin has, these last few days, at least been something different to think about.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, as he’s helping Kevin carry his stuff to the car. “I know I’ve been...I didn’t mean to be such an asshole. It was really good having you here.”

“Thanks for letting me invite myself,” says Kevin. “I’m sorry if I was too…”

“Yeah,” says Rick. “It’s okay.”

If neither of them acknowledge that their hug goodbye lasted too long, then maybe it didn’t.

-

Rick’s agent has been fielding inquiries all summer, from teams that know he’s not necessarily coming back, but want him to know they’re interested if he is. He’s been patient with Rick, not pushing him to make a decision, but at the beginning of August his patience runs out. 

Rick promises to look at the tentative offers, and he does, but it doesn’t help. There are a couple of contracts he could see himself taking. He lets Joe tell everyone else they’re definitely out of the running. He draws every stage of the process out for as long as he thinks he can get away with.

Joe Thornton calls for the first time in awhile; someone in the Sharks’ front office told him they’d gotten a no from Rick.

“Does that mean you’re going somewhere, then?” he asks. Rick doesn’t know whether he’s imagining the disapproval in Jumbo’s voice.

“Still haven’t decided,” he says.

“Should I be feeling insulted?” Joe asks. “You’re not sure you’re playing anywhere, but you’re making sure to reject my team specifically.”

“Yes,” says Rick. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m basing how I end my career entirely on how best to fuck with you.” He pauses. “If I end my career.”

“Right,” says Joe, his voice flat. He sighs, and adds, in an entirely different tone, “If you’re just trying to fuck with me, you could do a much better job. I don’t think you’re giving this your full attention.”

Rick knows he’s not, but he can’t really joke about it. He’s on edge, and his friends can tell. Jumbo is easier to talk to than most, but Rick can tell he’s frustrated with him. That’s fair. Rick is frustrated, too.

-

After he accidentally starts a fight with his dad, Rick calls Kevin, and lets him tell funny, inconsequential stories for awhile. That segues into Kevin talking about his end of summer plans—he’s already talking about heading back to New York for unofficial practices. 

“You should come down and hang out,” he says. “Maybe not right away...after training camp? Have you even packed up your apartment yet? That’s a reason to visit.”

“Stop,” says Rick.

Kevin stops, but after a moment he says, “You know life doesn’t end when you retire, right? You still get to make plans, and see your friends. You don’t get to just...abandon your stuff.”

“I still don’t know if I’m retiring,” says Rick. That, unexpectedly, silences Kevin altogether.

“Kev?” Rick asks, tentatively. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” says Kevin. “I’m just trying really hard not to be mad at you. Give me a minute.”

Rick doesn’t. “I don’t get it,” he says.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Kevin pauses. “You...know this isn’t actually a decision, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t do this. You can’t say things are bad enough that you’re worried about what the next hit is going to do and then just...keep going.” He takes a deep breath. “Other people care about you, if you don’t.”

“I know,” says Rick. “I mean, all of it. I do know.”

“Rick,” says Kevin, in a voice that Rick feels like a punch in the stomach. He must pull himself together, because he sounds normal again when he asks, a moment later, “What are you waiting for, then?”

“I don’t know,” says Rick. He knows what he’s going to do, because Kevin is right, he doesn’t really have a choice. But he doesn’t know how to take that last step.

“Okay,” says Kevin.

Rick wonders if Kevin can hear him breathing. He’s using the soft, even sound of Kevin’s breath to steady himself. He doesn’t know if the conversation is over, which is good, because it means he doesn’t have to hang up.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says.

“I know,” says Kevin. “Will you let me help?”

Rick breathes out. This is another step forward, a smaller version of the thing he doesn’t know how to do. But Kevin is telling him how. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

Kevin says something Rick can’t quite hear. Then he says, “Hey, Rick.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re retiring. And it’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” says Rick.

“Call your agent,” Kevin tells him. “And then...relax. Enjoy the lake.”

Rick swallows. “I can do that,” he says. “But—then what?”

“Then you come to New York,” says Kevin. “And—if there’s anything you can’t handle, I’ll be there.”

“Kevin,” says Rick, not ready to give in quite yet. “It took you three years to buy forks.”

“I know,” says Kevin. “I’m not...trying to take care of you. I don’t know how and I don’t think you’d let me. But you haven’t been taking care of yourself, so I’ll just...remind you.”

“And then?”

“And then...you’ll be okay? I don’t know, what are you asking?”

“I’m asking what happens after,” says Rick. “When do you stop making sure I take care of myself?”

There’s a long pause, and then Kevin says, “Rick. I—I’m not ever going to want to stop.” He pauses again, for only a couple of seconds this time. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Rick calls his agent, who is suspiciously gentle with him. He relaxes, in a way that he hasn’t been able to do all summer. He enjoys the lake. And after a week, he decides he’s had enough and books a flight to Boston.

-

Rick doesn’t actually know Kevin’s address. Jimmy Hayes and his wife have taken over the apartment he used to share with Kevin, the one Rick has been to when he’s visited before. He could call Kevin and ask, but he’s gotten kind of attached to the idea of surprising him. Instead he texts Vese for Kevin’s address. Jimmy doesn’t ask why Rick wants it, which is exactly why Rick asked him and not someone else.

There’s still a major flaw in the plan, because if Kevin is living by himself he’s probably spending very little time at home. Rick would probably have a better chance of finding him at the Yandles’, or Johnny Gaudreau’s.

The apartment has its own outside door, and when there’s no response to his ring, Rick considers just hanging out on the doorstep until Kevin gets back. But that assumes that Kevin comes home to sleep, which isn’t necessarily a safe assumption. So he texts Kevin a picture of the door, and “am I in the right place?”

He gets back “YES” and a string of animal emojis he can’t decipher, and twenty minutes later Kevin’s car is rolling into the driveway.

Rick stands up as Kevin gets out of the car, and they stand facing each other for a moment. Rick’s smile feels embarrassed and hopeful and impossible to hold back. Kevin’s is huge and unrestrained and a little foolish, and Rick loves it. Loves him, and hopes Kevin means everything he’s said, because Rick already knows he couldn’t bear to lose this.

“What are you doing here?” Kevin asks.

“I was lonely,” says Rick.

Rick reaches for Kevin as soon as the door closes behind them, wrapping a hand around his wrist and drawing him close. "Can I—?" he asks, but he's not expecting to wait for permission.

"Wait," says Kevin. He puts his hand on Rick's chest, keeping a bit of distance between them.

Rick waits, while Kevin swallows repeatedly, looks everywhere but at him, and finally rests his forehead against Rick's shoulder. 

"Sorry," he says. "I guess I never did, like, the big gay freakout thing? So..."

"You don't have to want this," says Rick. "It's okay if you don't." 

He's not really worried, though, because Kevin's still right there, leaning in close, his fingers starting to curl into the fabric of Rick's shirt. He lifts his head so he can look at Rick, and says, "I want this so much that I'm scared I don't." Rick's not sure he knows that his eyes keep flicking down to Rick's mouth.

Rick needed Kevin's help to take a next step, even though he knew what to do, even though he wanted it. This seems like the same kind of thing, so he doesn't wait. He kisses Kevin, careful not to crowd him or hold onto him tightly or do anything more than press his lips against Kevin's—until Kevin kisses him back, his hand sliding up Rick's chest to curl around the back of his neck, and then Rick does all of those things. They end up halfway across the room, by the first wall Rick found to press Kevin against.

"Okay," says Kevin, breathless. "I guess we're good."

“Yeah,” says Rick. “I thought so.” He brushes his lips against the skin under Kevin’s jaw.

Kevin shivers. “Your beard feels…”

“Bad?”

Kevin shakes his head. “Different.”

“This doesn’t have to go any faster than you want it to,” Rick tells him, and he means it. He doesn’t mind going slow, and sex is the smallest thing he wants from Kevin.

Kevin smiles at him. “You’re so…”

“What?”

“Comfortable, maybe? Confident?” He shrugs. “It’s hard to believe you were trying to turn yourself into a hermit a few weeks ago.”

“I had a lot on my mind,” says Rick. “Still do, I guess, but…”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Kevin says quickly.

“Good,” says Rick. He’s happy to have that conversation, but right now he’s more interested in...his hand slips under the edge of Kevin’s shirt, and Kevin laughs.

“Retired Rick is fun,” he says.

“Is that what I am now?” Rick asks.

“Unless you want to be something else.” Kevin is still smiling, and his eyes are bright, and he looks so happy that Rick feels like some of that happiness is spilling over into him.

“I thought this might be the return of relationship Rick.”

“Oh,” says Kevin. “Yes. It’s definitely that.”


End file.
